


Always

by ikkiM



Series: Jaime/Brienne Ficlets, Drabbles, Thoughts, Sentences...Maybe Even a Haiku [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiM/pseuds/ikkiM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fireside conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandwichesYumYum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandwichesYumYum/gifts).



> For sandwiches. You always make me feel.

Brienne took in the tattered red cardigan he held out for her. "Jaime, I asked you to bring me a _blanket_ from the closet." He stood before her, firelight glinting off his hair and beard, no longer gold, only silver, his face lined with years but his eyes still sparkling green.

"It's a sweater.” He shook it at her. “It will keep you warm. Put it on and scoot over so I can keep you warm too. I want to cuddle my wife.”

She pulled on the sweater and gingerly rearranged herself on the couch so he could slip in behind her. Kicking the ottoman over to him so he could rest his tired legs, Brienne stretched out on the couch. She leaned back against his chest, tugging at the sleeves of the sweater until they covered her hands. Her hands, once so young and strong, now often stiff with arthritis. She felt the rumble in his chest and knew what was coming.

"Brienne. We are _grandparents_ ," he announced in shock.

"I know,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You say that every time we have a new grandchild."

He shuddered. "It's simply not possible. We can’t be _old_ enough to be grandparents. How many grandchildren do we have now anyway?"

She smiled. They had this conversation every time. "This one makes fifteen." 

He nuzzled her pale hair, once the color of straw, now shot through with silver. “Fifteen? And the oldest one is how old now? Sixteen?"

"Sixteen and a complete hellion. Sansa and Podrick think the four of us are going to be great-grandparents way too soon if Leo and Cat can't get her in line." Brienne had tried. There was no talking to the girl.

"Sixteen and stupid then. That's the Tully in her. You can’t grow brains and red hair in the same place. A Lannister would never behave like that."

She laughed. "Oh, a Lannister would never skip classes, never mouth off to a teacher, never get in a fistfight? A Lannister would never get expelled? Really?"

"Father wouldn't have permitted it. He would have bribed the school officials."

Brienne threaded her fingers through his, knowing his thoughts were drifting to Tywin. He'd never reconciled with his father. It was one of Jaime's few regrets. She steered him toward newer, happier memories. "So, this latest grandchild. Our daughter named _her_ daughter 'Rainstorm.' Rainstorm is a weather phenomenon, not a name."

He tightened his arms around her and she wrapped her free hand around his stump. "Who cares about the name, love? Did she tell _you_ who the father is?"

She shook her head. Their youngest daughter was more willful than any of their grandchildren would ever dream of being. Alysanne had insisted on keeping the father's identity a secret. "She told me it didn't matter. That she wanted a child and since she never intended to get married, she decided to just get pregnant instead. She chose the name Rainstorm because it reminded her of our summers on Tarth."

Jaime sighed. "I'd be angry at some young man for taking advantage of _her_ if I weren't convinced she'd taken advantage of _him_. How did you let her grow up so wild, Brienne? Why weren't you a more attentive mother?"

Brienne snorted. "Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because she was the youngest of five and I had my hands full teaching them right from wrong and how to behave in public while you were busy teaching them how to swordfight and ride horses?"

"I'm still blaming you for this," he declared, squeezing her tighter. She was still surprised by the strength in his arms.

"Blame me all you want. She's happy. They’re all happy." She pulled his weathered hand to her lips and kissed it.

"That's all my doing." She could feel him grinning into her hair. "If it had been left up to you, they'd be all about boring duty and honor and self-sacrifice. They'd be miserable wretches. I was the fun parent."

She pressed her head back into his shoulder. "You're the fun grandparent too. I know you're the one who taught Joanna's twins how to shoot rubber bands and call me ‘Grandma Wench.’ And why did you buy them rolls of duct tape?"

"Every boy needs to know how to shoot rubber bands. They’re six and their education is lacking. As to the duct tape, I didn't ask. They said something about playing hostages."

"I don’t even want to know," Brienne said. "Did you enjoy being 'fun grandpa' today?"

"Mm-hmm," he replied, tugging at the sleeve of her cardigan and kissing her softly on the neck. 

"Really, Jaime?" she asked, still blushing after all these years. "Hasn't it been a long enough day?"

"What?" he replied, all innocence.

"I asked for a blanket and you brought me your 'I want to have sex’ sweater."

"My what?"

"This is your 'I want to have sex’ sweater. You only want me to wear it when you're in the mood. Why is that?"

He pulled back from her until she turned to face him. "You really don't remember? Shouldn’t I be the one with the fading memory here? Come on, wench." He ran his hand down her arm. “ _This_ sweater.”

She shook her head. "This is the sweater Tyrion bought you when our first son was born. He said you were an old man now and should start wearing old man sweaters." She touched his face as they both remembered his brother, lost three years prior.

Jaime kissed her cheek. "Arthur was almost a year old and he'd started walking and he'd broken into that mystery stash of cotton candy—"

"You mean when he was ten months old and you _fed_ him cotton candy," she interrupted, settling back against his chest.

Jaime waved that away with his stump. "Anyway, he spent all evening sick. And you were furious with me. In the middle of the night, he got sick again, this time all over you. I held him while you cleaned up and you came back into his room wearing only this sweater." He fingered the sleeve. "Your hair was standing up all over your head, you were looking at me like you wanted to tear me limb from limb, Arthur was screaming his head off and about to puke on my shoulder, and the sight of your sexy, bare legs made it all worthwhile." He peered over her shoulder and unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, pulling the material away from her chest to get a glimpse of the tops of her small breasts. "Not to mention it didn't exactly cover your top half, wench." He kissed her neck. "All those delicious freckles. I’m pretty sure that’s the night we made Leo and Genna."

She guffawed. "You're an idiot, Jaime Lannister."

"That's my favorite memory of you, Brienne." He tugged at the sweater again, his voice hopeful. "So…interested?"

She traced the veins on the back of his wrinkled hand with her fingers. "Think you can manage it, Grandpa Jaime?"

"For you, Brienne, always."

**Author's Note:**

> This got stuck in my head after so many thoughts about age gaps and terrible ends for Jaime and Brienne. I wanted a little happiness.
> 
> Thanks so much to downlookingup for her brilliant suggestions.


End file.
